


Hunting on Hera

by Ainsley_Harriot



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: (My jokes aren't funny), A first year Pre-Med student struggles to Google an understanding of the human anatomy, Adventure, Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Graphic Violence, Humor, I'll mark the bits that made me queasy to write, Post-Canon, Technobabble, Violence, Violence serves an important literary function in the Borderlands universe, headcanons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 02:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9103156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ainsley_Harriot/pseuds/Ainsley_Harriot
Summary: The time has come once again for the Vault Hunters of Pandora to take up arms and ply their trade. There's a lot of ground to cover, a lot of mystery to uncover, a lot of people to kill, and, perhaps most importantly, a lot of loot to be had. Only by standing together can they hope to stand strong against a Galaxy gone mad.We'll see the Vault Hunters splitting off into the far corners of the six galaxies, searching for Vaults and Vault Hunters. Axton, Gaige, and Krieg will be the focus characters, because fuck me if I can manage nine obnoxious Vault Hunters.





	1. Rising Action

"Hey, squirt, couldja toss me that weldi-OW!"

"Oops, sorry. A throw from a 'squirt' like me couldn't have hurt _that_ badly, could it?"

"God, kid, didn't mean nothin' by it."

She had passed him the torch, though, so Axton scooped up the much-abused tool and turned back to his turret. If they were gonna be taking on Helios, he wanted all of his gear to be in top condition. He was going to be putting his fate and those of his friends on these guns; he had plenty motivation to be working for mission prep, even if he'd rather be at Moxxxi's. Her booze sucked ass, but the atmosphere more than made up for that. Most of his friends were there right now, in fact. Salvador would probably be drunk off his ass by now. Maya and Zero would be infuriatingly sober. Lilith, Mordecai, and Brick were busy interrogating some ex-Atlas scrooge; he hadn't been invited, and as such, didn't rea-

An explosion rocked the confiscated machine shop, interrupting Axton's train of thought and reminding him he wasn't the only one missing out. Gaige was ducked down behind her robot's thick poly-ferrin plating, while the building's other inhabitant, coated in soot and full of shrapnel, clutched a now thoroughly-dismantled buzz-axe. Krieg laughed, relatively calmly, to himself, a grating, hiccuping sound.

"Hush now, dear, Santa Claws comes tomorrow."

"Gaige, why are we letting the psychopath use our shop full of delicate machinery to duct-tape dynamite to his weapons?"

"Axton, if you'd been paying attention, the dynamite was already there. He was soldering a grenade to it."

"My question stands."

There was actually a distinct lack of drinking going on at Moxxxi's right now, in deference to the possibility of armed spaceflight in the morning. Some were taking it better than others.

"Hey, now _that_ is uncalled-for!"

"Look, _se_ _ñ_ _ora_ , all I am saying is that drunken-ness has never made anything I have ever done any harder!"

"Some of us just might Have to disagree with that, It shows when you're drunk."

"¿ _Y t_ _ú_ _, hombre_?"

"Yes."

Salvador groaned dramatically, before slumping face-first into what used to be a whole pizza. Maya rolled her eyes and Zero stared vacantly into space.

"So, uh, Zero, why don't you tell us about that thing Moxxi sent you on again?" Maya asked, clearly trying to kill time.

"I arrived swiftly, Slew Bossanova, and left. No sign of Gortys."

Salvador spoke up. "You know, _amigo_ , you are the only one I know who could turn an hours-long raid on a demolition derby against Pandora's own Bass'd God sound so _damn boring_."

Zero flashed a ;), but remained silent.

About the time other people started filing into the bar for actual fun, Zero stood up. "I feel a good stretch Would not be unwelcome now, Would you not agree?"

Salvador practically leaped to his feet. "Anything, amigo, just get me out of _here_!" Maya frowned pathetically.

"Come on, am I really such bad company?"

"Maya, no offense, but sitting here watching you read is not fun."

Salvador and Zero walked out of the bar/pizzeria, heading for the open area in front of Scooter's machine shop. The good-natured mechanic had left a few weeks ago to monitor one of his worse-off franchise locations, and wouldn't mind if they trashed the place a bit.

"So, what did you have in mind, _Se_ _ñ_ _or Misterio_?"

Zero sank into a cross-legged seated position. Salvador watched, looking not at all impressed, and slightly let down. He hesitantly followed suit, even resting his hands palms-up like Zero was. He did not like it much at all. He managed to wait three minutes before speaking up.

"Zero, maybe this works for you, but my legs are knotting up already. Do you not have anything more, _no s_ _é_ , _exciting_?"

Zero displayed an ellipse, droning out "Patience, Salvador. Excess eagerness can suck, Especially now."

Salvador grumbled a bit. Then he got fed up and got up. He shook his legs out, rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and looked back to Zero, who, while sitting, was at eye-level with the stocky midget. A smile lit up his face.

"I have an idea! You only want to do things for training or stretching or whatever, right?"

Zero cocked his head, displaying a question mark. "What's your idea?"

"Well, I know you pride yourself a skilled fighter. Thing is, I think I am pretty badass myself. Maybe we could throw down a little, _mano a mano_ , eh?" His smile became a fierce, ear-to-ear grin.

Zero seemed to think for a minute, before he apparently decided. He displayed a }:), responding "I suppose it wouldn't Upset my daily schedule Too badly, at all." He placed one hand on the ground, flipped up onto it, and threw himself to his feet some distance away. He raised his hands, fingers curled at the tips into hooks. His holo-display shifted to the phrase "Come at me, bro."

Salvador led with a right hook, and...

Axton and Krieg were walking towards Moxxxi's, both finished with their respective mechanical tune-ups. Both of Axton's turrets were oiled where necessary and calibrated. He'd even decided to re-bore the barrels, while he'd had the chance. He'd managed to prevent any more explosions. Gaige had decided to stay behind and tune Deathtrap's AI rather than leave with Axton and Krieg. After the whole wedding disaster, the other Vault Hunters had unanimously voted that she was banned from drinking (though Gaige maintained that Krieg's enthusiastic guffawing was a vote of support).

Axton grunted, spat some machine oil out of his mouth, and leaned back against the rail surrounding the titanic monolith in the center of Sanctuary. He lifted his eyes to the impossibly colossal "H" suspended above Elpis. Grinning halfway, he halfheartedly popped off a finger gun shot at the orbital station. Krieg watched with his one good eye, inscrutable as ever.

It wasn't a comfortable sort of silence. Axton couldn't understand what Krieg said, as a rule, but he liked to think he had the sort of charisma that let him grasp the basics of the psycho's mood. He knew Krieg was never this silent without a reason.

"I don't like this, Krieg. Hyperion's good as gone. Jack was the only thing keeping them here."

Krieg just pointed at Helios. "I know, Krieg, what I'm sayin' is, like, Jack was the one doing the moving and the shaking and the drilling. Him and his goons. Well, Jack and every Hyperion asset to ever set foot on Pandora are dead. The only ones left on that station are the civvies and mall cops. People just, like, doing their slaggin' jobs that just _happen_ to be in Pandora's orbit. And we're gonna be blowing every last one of 'em to bleeding, gasping smithereens." Krieg seemed to struggle with a reply.

"As the sun sets, the moon glows, and the grass grows, so, too, must I dance," he eventually mumbled out.

Axton didn't even bother to translate that. "I mean, I could just _not go_ , but I've… What are you going for?"

The masked man deliberately gripped his axe-blade tightly enough to cover the ground in a pool of sizzling black blood. "I just want a life among the stars. Good God, an _autograph_ isn't so much to ask for," he growled, venomously.

"Yeah, sure thing, big fella. I guess I just don't feel like I _get_ to sit this one out. I've had-"

"Hey, everybody, we're gonna head over to the ship for a toast, and maybe finally christen the damned thing. Get your asses over here!" A voice squawked from both of their ECHOs.

Axton smiled, just a bit giddy. He'd flown on a lot of spaceships, but he'd never been able to _name_ one. "Hell, yeah!" He tapped his ECHO, saying "Lemme grab Gaige, and we'll be right there!"

All of the Hunters had gathered around the annexed Hyperion interplanetary shuttle with their drinks. "Ship" would be too kind; the thing was just barely capable of breaking atmosphere. But that was about all it was needed for. Once they got to Helios, they were sure to find something with FTL. Thus, the shuttle.

"Alright, alright, chill out, guys. We gotta name this thing before we can fly it," Lilith spoke over the gathered warriors from the entrance, reminding them of their ultimate goal here.

"Yeah, hurry up you guys, I wanna have my drink!" Salvador bellowed, blood flying from his split lips.

"Chill out, Sally," Maya replied offhandedly, to Salvador's feigned hurt. "How about… Zeus? In keeping with the whole Greco-Roman gods nomenclature everyone has going?"

"That works, but probably not for an _orbital insertion_ cargo shuttle. This thing ain't regal, it ain't strong, it doesn't even have any weaponry to speak of, definitely not 'Zeus' material," Axton broke in, somewhat smugly. "I'd vote for a name like Roughshod or Leap."

"Gosh, man, thanks for the vote of confidence about our spaceship. Is this thing even void-worthy?" Mordecai banged twice on the thing's window.

"The computer _says_ so. And I still wanna name it the Pandoran Fist!" Brick pulled Mordecai off of the shuttle.

"Like _Hell_ you're namin' it that, Brick," Mordecai responded. "Look, if it's such a shitty ship, how about the Longshot? 'Cause that's what it'd be to get anywhere in this thing."

"I am fond of it," Zero said unsteadily, reminding everyone he was there. His vocal modulator seemed to be malfunctioning.

"I guess I kinda like it, but do we really need to name this throwaway before we fly it?" Gaige saw the mixed expressions of horror and put-upon patience worn by the others, and said "Oof, fine, jeez, sorry. Longshot sounds good."

"Alright, so everyone likes Longshot? Yes? Great, so, uh, I here-"

Maya interrupted Lilith, "Sorry, wait, don't you need a king or bishop or whoever to christen a ship?"

Lilith smiled wryly, "Yes, and I am figure of considerable religious significance," everyone snickered, "Shut up. Anyway, I hereby dub this ship the P.V.S. Longshot."

She smashed a bottle of Sham-Payn on the shuttle's hull. Everyone cheered and drained their glasses. The atmosphere was charging as it only could when nine remorseless mass-murderers were preparing to enact their next tragedy. Then, slowly, everyone became aware of a pressing logistical problem.

Mordecai bit the bullet and broached it. "Hey, uh, does anybody know how to fly a ship like this?"

"Yeah, but it's a two-man job," Axton tossed up a hand and swaggered up the gangway to stand next to Lilith. He turned around. "Anyone else know what they're doing?"

Dead silence. Brick smiled that same dopey smile. Mordecai looked pointedly away from the ship. Maya shrugged. Lilith shifted uncomfortably. Salvador spun the cylinder on his revolver. Gaige shook her head frantically when he looked at her. Krieg raised his hand hesitantly. Zero stood motionless as-

"Krieg? You, uh, know how to fly a shuttle?"

He seemed to grapple internally, before slowly pushing out "The blood trains commute from Hera to Pandora and back." He seemed to get more excited. "Our rails are the best-worn in the galaxy!"

Axton was having a spiritual experience. He was coming to terms with the fact that, unless somebody else somehow knew how to operate a star drive (but not a much simpler vectored-thrust engine?), Krieg might not just be his co-pilot for a ground-space excursion. He might be the _captain_ of an interstellar hop.

He smiled weakly. "W-well, good, then," he drew himself up and put some good old Dahl steel in his voice. "You're gonna be flyin' with me, big fella."

Everyone else was going through the same sort of revelation. Salvador pulled a beaded necklace from his pocket and kissed it. Lilith gulped audibly and tugged the collar of her jacket looser. Brick and Gaige alone seemed undiminished in their excitement.

The overgrown psycho clomped up the gangway, rattling the reinforced platform. He threw two thick arms around Axton and Lilith, pulling each off their feet into enthusiastic one-armed hugs. "Worry not, my sweet meats! The prince of _justice_ and _genocide_  hath decreed the laying of track into the great unknown!" Melodramatic tears glistened in his eye. "Upon a _freight car_  of _hate_  shall we _e-rupt_  from this sludge, into a _nimbus_  of _stars_!" The un-hugged hunters were choking back laughter. The two on the receiving end of his vocal expression of camaraderie were mostly just choking. Eventually, the others couldn't take it. Brick, Gaige, and Salvador burst out laughing at the commando and siren's plight. Maya and Zero at least tried to be subtle. Mordecai subconsciously grabbed at where he would carry a flask.

"Enough chatterboxing! The _empty expanse_  awaits!" Krieg dropped the other Vault Hunters. Axton, after collecting himself, flipped a switch to cycle the airlock and addressed the others.

"Alright, let's get organized, run some pre-flight checks, and take off. We'll deal with… complications as they arrive."

The Hunters began to file up the gangway, preparing themselves mentally to finally rid Pandora of Hyperion influence once and for all.

Then Helios exploded.


	2. Chapter 2: In the Thick of It

Axton lay back on a dirt-crusted couch, bouncing an unmodified grenade off of the wall across from him as he waited for the laundry. The other Hunters were out looking for any trace of the crashed space station. That's where he belonged; out in the field, not washing everyone's unmentionables. He'd tried _so hard_ to convince them that he was fit for action, but even after receiving treatment, the best he'd been able to manage was a pained limp. Though he'd never admit it to anyone, he was lucky the badass thresher hadn't done worse. He grimaced, absently running a hand over the lumpy bruises signifying where his bones had broken the skin.

A washing machine dinged loudly, and Axton, cursing under his breath, struggled to his feet and limped to the clustered machines to a cascade of dings. He hated doing the laundry. It was simple back at Dahl; everyone wore the same thing, everyone was exposed to the same things. It was complicated with Vault Hunters. Brick's clothes took up half a washing machine, and that was just the one outfit. Mordecai's creepy gimp-suit needed to be hand-cleaned. Ugh. Krieg's pants always bled slag into the water, so he got his own washing machine. Blech. At least those were the worst of it.

A ringing from his hip momentarily startled him. He fumbled with the clasps and brought the ECHO device up to his face. A wide-band distress signal? From Gaige? Weird. Gaige asking for help was like Salvador offering to share his guns. Interested, he flipped on a comm line to her, knowing her ECHO would broadcast what he said whether she had time to answer or not.

"Hey, squirt, what's goin' on?"

" _Axton_! Holy shit! I must've found the ancestral homeland of all rakk, 'cause there are so many rakk hives I swear to God! I've killed two of the bastards already but they're still coming! Get Maya or Sal on the line, I think it's gonna take more firepower to take'em down!" She was gasping and her voice was unsteady.

Now on the one hand, rakk hives were hilarious, not to mention finding a colony of creatures that individually serve as colonies to other smaller creatures was just the right sort of crazy, and he really wanted to get out of Sanctuary and get in on some action to get his mind off of underpants. On the other hand, he was a liability on the battlefield with his leg like it was.

"Axton, hurry! The big one's starting to spew badasses!"

Snapping to a decision, he quickly set his ECHO to piggyback on and boost the signal of Gaige's distress call, before grabbing some clothes from Brick's washing machine. He wrapped the titanic man's heavy-duty jacket around his left leg, tightly binding it with three belts. It would give him some extra support if push came to shove. Hastily clipping on his shield, turret, and a grenade mod, he hesitated in choosing a gun, before deciding on a nice Torgue pistol he'd grabbed from a tundra savage and a couple of rakk-hunting guns- shotguns and sub-machine guns. He tapped his comm-line again as he laboriously dashed out the door and towards Pierce Station.

"Hang on, Gaige, I boosted your signal and I'm ETA-" he checked as his ECHO found her position via satellite- "five minutes."

"Thanks, I'll try to- hold on, your leg! You're gonna get torn apart! I've been running for twenty minutes straight, Ax!"

"Can it, recruit, keep forcing a retreat!"

She managed an air of wounded dignity through panting, " _Recruit_?! I've killed so many dudes this past-"

"Running, girl!"

His body was running on autopilot as his mind raced. Even as he was digi-transferred to the nearest fast-travel station to Gaige- his ECHO helpfully identified the place as the Fraternity Ward- he was cobbling together plans for attack, escape, and attrition. If Gaige was close enough to the station and resupply, they could stand and fight, and maybe even get some nice loot. Or he could just deploy his turret and set up overwatch of the-

He materialized in a winding canyon just as a foot as thick around as a small car smashed his lifeline to Sanctuary, ammunition, and medical attention into tiny, rapidly digi-tizing chunks.

Thinking quickly and groaning in frustration, he gripped the loose folds of skin hanging behind the hive's foot and let it carry him as he contacted Gaige. "Okay, I'm here, but the Fast-Travel isn't. We've gotta brain these savages and E-V-C-B." Off-handedly, he noted with some annoyance that he was regressing back to Dahl's battlefield shorthands and lingo.

"Where are you? I can only see- _Damn it_! Sic'em, boy! -where are you?"

"I've hitched a ride on one of the hives. The-" he peaked around the leg and counted "-third in file. Send DT and we'll R-V."

"I can't understand a word you just said!" Gaige lamented, but Deathtrap did break off from annoying rakk hives and hover agitatedly toward the beleaguered commando. Wasting no time, Axton leapt off, slung an arm over the weaponized computer's neck with one hand, and axed any curious rakk with the other. He tried hard to come up with a better idea than "run away while trying to kill them" but, uh, short of calling in orbital bombardment they didn't have, nothing really came to mind.

The robot dropped him at Gaige's side, and even with his injury, he easily paced the diminutive mechromancer. She managed a grunt of acknowledgment.

"Any bright ideas, oh, wise and venerable veteran?"

"Yeah, go faster. I'm basically D-F-T-C and I'm outrunning you," he bit out, genuinely concerned by the speed displayed by the hives. They were heavily agitated.

"Shut up, I meant about killing them."

"H-C-H-V 'til they're good and dead."

" _English_ , you Dahl robot!"

"Fucking shoot it in the face until it drops!"

Still sprinting, Axton unslung his turret's projection deck. Pressing a button to prime the longbow tech, he cooked it and let the teleportation carry it to a far wall of the canyon. At the same time, he dropped a $20 disposable targeting beacon behind himself, allowing it to provide fire support even at the absolute maximum range conceivable. He smirked as rakk began dropping in puddles of slag, eventually spreading the sludge to the hives. Now was a good chance to lighten their pursuit.

He spoke tersely. "Can you clear the air?"

Gaige glanced at him, "I mean, yeah, but I'm more concerned with the hives right now."

"A missile barrage to a slagged hive might work. Too bad there's too many air-charlies."

To her credit, the young Vault Hunter took the hint, directing Deathtrap's laser and energy blast attack at the screeching cloud of rakk overhead. The improvised flak opened a firing lane between one of the rakk hives and his turret's missile pods. The now rather-harried commando tapped a button on his ECHO, and the pods both launched their entire complement of missiles. In the same motion, Axton threw another targeting beacon, sticking it into the slag-coated maw of rakk hive number two. Not two seconds later, twenty-two Dahl-brand anti-material high-explosive warheads reduced the great majority of the creature's skull to a chunky red paste.

Gaige's face lit up at the display, watching distractedly as the lumbering beast toppled into one of its fellows, tripping it and almost certainly breaking some limbs. The smile left her face, however, when the largest of the three, likely a badass in and of itself, barreled straight through the two, forcing them to the sides of the canyon. With a roar sounding like a B-flick monster filtered through a wet fart, the thing picked up _even more_ speed, at last achieving a velocity/body mass ratio comparable to that of a very fat human. Axton cursed.

"Damned thing's gonna catch us if we don't get some fire at our heels!"

Gaige adopted about as sad an expression as could be expected, given the situation. "Ax, the canyon ends not too far from here, just around that bend. We might end up having to stand and fight this thing."

"… Hold on, I've got an idea, but it's D-M if ever there were. But it requires us to be beyond the E-B-Z of the nuke in my turret."

Gaige groaned. "I'll get Deathtrap."

With a sweeping motion of her hand, she called her robotic servant back from harrying the beast's flanks. Unimpeded now, the badass rakk hive reached maximum speed. Deathtrap swept up both Gaige and Axton, flying low with the added weight. It was a race now, to see if the Vault Hunters could get past the nuke before the hive got too close.

With a screech, the rakk soaring high above reminded the harried Vault Hunters of their presence. A badass dive-bombed them, maw stretched wide, only to fall to the earth after a point-blank hit from Gaige's shotgun. The other rakks took this as their cue to launch an attack themselves, and soon, it was all the two could do not to be plucked off Deathtrap by the sheer press of shrieking, bleeding rakk.

As the mechromancer plucked a rakk out of the sky so Axton could ventilate its braincase, he began to realize the hive was _gaining_ on them. Focusing through the copper-and-powder scented haze, he hazarded a guess that the hive would be reaching them long before they ever got to the turret, and hence, the nuke. With a growing sense of dread slowly advancing through his steely, he began to give voice to the worsening situation, when, like the Word from on high, a voice drowned out the chaos.

"I am the _conductor_  of **the _poop train_**!"

A blur of nitro-fuelled yellow hate smashed into the beast's right shoulder, blasting it into the canyon wall and staggering it. A misshapen but unmistakably human figure was launched skyward, before sliding diagonally down the hive's side, carving a bloody, flaming trail visible even from where the other two watched. The familiar psycho landed in a dead sprint, slowing only to, over several, sickening seconds, saw and hack completely through the overbalanced animal's right achilles tendon. Deep, booming vocalizations of rage rose several octaves into sounds reserved exclusively for those dead and dying of the feline persuasion. Before it could recover and smash the still horribly-outmatched psycho, Krieg broke back into a sprint, slicing rakk out of the sky the whole way, long strides slowly clearing the widening distance between the hive and Deathtrap.

Through heaving gasps, the mutant began keeping pace with Deathtrap. He panted out, to nobody in particular, " **What is it? I can't hold it in anymore!** _ **Yank**_ **our eye I** _ **eye out**_ **by the _chain_**!"

"Pick'em up, keep'em up, Krieg! Get past the turret up ahead and we can nuke this savage!"

The masked face nodded, and bellowed " ** _Safety_ will be the _sturdy child_  of _terror_**!" He swatted a badass rakk into paste, and began shoving against Deathtrap's back, unnatural strength propelling the weightless robot back to full speed.

Axton snapped off shots with his Torgue pistol, Gaige hip-fired her now red-hot shotgun, and Krieg carelessly tossed bundles of lit dynamite behind his head, and under the sheer weight of fire, the badass hive began losing ground to the Vault Hunters. They swept past the turret and then it was a coin toss no knowing what will happen just-count-down-the-seconds-watch-as-time-rolls-on-GOD-this-is-what-I'm-reallylivingfortimeitalljustrightand-

Colors washed out. Gaige's face locked into a silent roar, halfway between agony and exhilaration. Debris began flying past Axton's eyes. The pressure wave hit.

:=-=-+-=-=:

Coughing, Axton sat up. Something heavy slid off his chest, and he winced when it clacked against the rocks around him. He had a nasty Ox-Dep. headache. He waved his unfeeling hands in front of his face. Mostly still covered in skin. Standing up, he clambered out of the rubble-pile his body had claimed for him. Fiddling with a med-syringe, he set his ECHO to scan for signals, as the dust was too thick to see through. It was a futile exercise, though; the sturdy device wasn't burned out by the radiation, but it was a near thing. Finally giving in to temptation and slipping the needle into his thigh, knowing the miraculous concoction would reinforce his tortured leg, he called out.

"Gaige? Krieg? You guys hearin' me?"

After a pause, he heard a pained groan by a wall and hurried over to it. Bending down, he recognized a shock of oily crimson hair. He began carefully unburying the girl, exposing her face and splashing it with -he checked the label on his flask- Moxxxi's L8-Night Special™. Spluttering, Gaige woke up, while her flesh arm rose from the gravel to wipe the potent booze from her face. Axton gripped her shoulders and slowly began pulling her from the rubble, sans a sweatshirt. When she didn't scream in agony, he yanked her out much quicker.

She was still preoccupied with her face. She compulsively rubbed it with both hands now, her claws scratching wildly. She opened her mouth to speak, sputtered, and her eyes flew open. She spat furiously, rubbing her tongue. She gazed accusingly at Axton.

"Whad da fugg did you bud id dad bomb?"

"Spent fuels cells," he replied, after several moments' hesitation.

" _Whad da fugg, Afton_!?"

"Dahl wartime policy. Detonation of the Sabre's inbuilt nuke is a last-resort sort of deal. If you're nuking something, might as well make sure nobody's ever gonna use it to fuck with you again, right? Heh."

Done trying to wash the taste of fallout from her tongue, Gaige poked him in the chest. "I've seen you detonate that thing almost every day! Why is _this_ one the dirty bomb?"

"Look, it's just, like -don't worry about it. Maybe I just don't like irradiating my friends. Advanced SDU-tech. Space magic. I don't know. Where's Krieg?"

Looking quite annoyed, Gaige stood up and brushed off her skirt. "I dunno. Let's find him."

" _Polo_!" A shaky tenor called from somewhere from the direction they'd been running from.

They found found Krieg, no longer his mutant form, curled into the fetal position, cradling his face in his arms. His back was stripped of flesh, exposing his inhumanly dense back and shoulder muscles, glowing faintly purple. The blood and dust surrounding him formed a muddy black slurry. Stifling a gag, Axton eased a hand onto his friend's arm, handing him a med-syringe. The psycho took it gratefully, quickly injected it directly into his heart, and threw the needle aside. Still holding his head, he shakily spoke.

"My mask," he rasped from somewhere in his throat.

"What? Krieg, are you… Okay?" Gaige leaned in closer to the large man and hesitantly laid a hand on his shoulder.

He turned away, hiding his face behind his torso. "Don't look. Please. My mask."

Axton rummaged through the gravel and found the sturdy mining mask. He was about to hand it to Krieg, but decided to take a chance.

"Krieg, what's goin' on with-"

His body snapped up and one of his gnarled arms shot out and snagged the mask. Axton caught a glimpse of a thick, severe face half-obscured by burn scars. The mask was on in an instant, and Krieg was on his feet, all bundled nerves and exuberance, never mind his sudden case of flesh deficiency. He thrust his other hand forward, fingers clutched around Gaige's hoodie and Axton's combat hatchet, which he hadn't noticed he'd been missing. As they gingerly reached out and took the discarded personal effects, the ecstatic psycho bounced on his toes.

"I kept your _skin_  warm for you, _small fry_!" Ignoring Gaige's indignant expression as she slipped back into the torn hoodie, he instead forced the titanium-alloy hatchet into Axton's hand, wagging a finger at him. "And _you_ , Sarge, should know _better_! Keep a firm hand on your _hand_  or you'll lose it in the _meat grinder_!"

Slowly, Axton hung the weapon from his belt. He smiled non-threateningly and shook Krieg's hand, saying, "Thanks, soldier. For watchin' out for us."

Once the psycho nodded and turned his attention elsewhere, Axton exhaled between his teeth. His heart was hammering; he trusted Krieg, but he'd been surprised by shell-shocked soldiers before. Turning back to Gaige, he shook off his misgivings and asked, "So, what'd find all the way out here?" A sense of excitement grew in his gut. "Any trace of Helios?"

Gaige laughed. "Oh, whew, yeah, "trace." Try the whole damn thing! _But_!" She sternly interjected as Axton began to speak. "Loot first!"

"Really, Gaige?"

Her expression softened and she punched Axton in the shoulder. "C'mon, Axton, it's a crashed space station full of unambitious sheep. Nothing is going anywhere."

"Fine, fine. I want the badass's stuff since I killed it and whatnot," he replied as he began sprinting to the epicenter of the nuclear blast.

"HEY! First come first serve, gramps!" Gaige began struggling to keep up, Krieg jogging lightly beside her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  More notes here. I've got a few things I know I'll be doing consistently in the story. I will switch POV every chapter, unless it wouldn't make sense for some reason. I'm going for a focus on character interaction, so expect plenty of that. But there are some things I'm less sure of. How much slice-of-life (laundry, lounging, chatting, heart-to-heart chats) is too much for what is a high-octane ass-kicking simulator? Perhaps most pressingly, for me, is how to deal with the characterizations of Axton, Gaige, and Krieg (who this story will be following). It's not that their characters are vague or difficult, the problem is that they're all together. They're three loud, overbearing, and somewhat obnoxious characters all commanding attention. I'll have to work on doing each individual their own deserved justice.
> 
> Anyway, sorry for the miny-rant. I'd like to hear if any of that inspired some insight or thought; that's what I'm aiming for with these author's notes.


	3. Chapter 3: Chill Out For a Minute

Gaige turned around and called down the hill. "C'mon, you guys, I'm getting old waiting for you!"

Krieg had an arm slipped under Axton's, half-carrying him as they hiked behind her. Axton's leg was fucked up; a fact made worse by the recent nuclear detonation they had orchestrated. The best any of the three could tell, he'd either pulled his hamstring or seasoned his spleen too aggressively.

Gaige didn't worry too much, though. It wasn't painful enough to keep him from limping uphill, so she figured he could stand to hurry up a little!

"Gaige, if you're gettin' old, howd'ya think I feel?"

The diminutive engineer scoffed, crossed her arms, and tossed her hair to the side. "C'mon, Ax, you always bring that up! You're barely nine years older than me."

Axton ignored her shut-down and continued. "I've been a career soldier since I was sixteen. I took my first bullet two days out of boot camp!"

Gaige groaned and pulled her pigtails over her ears. "Ax, you've told this a million times..."

"First week on Themis, I ran out of bullets and had to fight hand-to-assault rifle against an entire posse of Jakobs gunmen. You wanna know how I handled it?"

"Ax, we already kno-"

" _Do_  you want to know?!"

Gaige sighed, resigned. "I don't know, Axton. How?"

"I killed every single last one of those bastards, that's how!" He threw an arm out wide, nearly unbalancing himself. To his credit, he didn't even slow down his tirade. "I wanted to kill _them_ a hell of a lot more than they wanted to kill _me_!"

Gaige rolled her eyes. Axton did this when he wanted to point out how naive or inexperienced she was in comparison to himself. She didn't much care for it; she'd fought the Warrior, Terramorphous, and everything else that all of the others had. As far as she was concerned, she'd already proven her worth.

"I've planted enough men and women in the dirt to have a spot in the War-Criminals' Hall of Infamy, and I've planted enough of the same into bed to take Cassanova Monthly's Hieronymous' Least Discerning Buggerer Award five years runnin'!"

"TMI, Ax!"

"I'm wanted in every star system in the Galactic East, West, and North for 'Crimes Irredeemable' or 'Actions Unforgivable," he said, getting closer and drawing himself up. "Ten months ago, I was officially executed by firing squad for somethin' that blows all my other accomplishments out the water. Then I came to Pandora, where we all spent six months killin' the shit outta just about everythin' on this damned planet."

He was standing directly in front of her now, flinty-faced and puffing himself up like a peacock. His steely gaze bored through her, and Gaige met his stare with an annoyed sneer. Krieg shuffled awkwardly next to Axton, being essentially reduced to a human wheelchair.

Grinning suddenly, Axton pitched forward and spun around. Gaige yelped and caught him, Pandora's low gravity enabling her to actually support the larger man's weight. She was about to bitch him out, when he breathed out "I think I've earned a bit'o laziness, G."

Rolling her eyes, she shoved him into Krieg's hands. She laughed when Axton yelped as Krieg twisted him into the princess-carry. "Fine, but you can get Krieg to haul your lazy ass around. I don't even want to try carting you over this terrain."

" _Looove_ you," Krieg growled, locking gazes with a now visibly uncomfortable Axton. Gaige snickered, and beckoned the two to keep following.

Finally cresting the top of the hill, a disgustingly mutilated landscape came into sight. It was pockmarked with impact craters, gouged by colossal shards of plasteel and poly-ferrin, and marred by the enormous disk sitting at the far end of the long track of junk. The former core of Helios station was cracked like an egg, spilling its technological guts across the entirety of the plains.

"Wow. This… is _awesome_!" Gaige couldn't help but celebrate. Helios had been like a collar; no matter what happened on Pandora or its moon, Hyperion had that enormous fucking space cannon. Just yank the chain a bit, and the people would grumble, but ultimately slouch into compliance, just like on Eden-5. But no more; these dogs got sick of getting kicked, and knocked their fascism, their laws, their system right out of the sky!

"Guys, how are you not psyched right now!?"Gaige exclaimed, searching her companions for the exuberance she knew they should be sharing with her. Krieg seemed indifferent, and Axton looked… Pale? "C'mon, Ax, what's wrong?"

Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his hair and smiled in that fake, plastic-joy sort of way. "Nothin', G. I'm one-hundred-percent," he glanced towards his legs, "… Well, almost, anyway."

Not wanting to start more banter, Gaige let it slide, Krieg set Axton down, and they continued down into the plains.

: =-=-+-=-= :

They were really close to Helios proper, now, and there were signs of local survivors everywhere. There were now-abandoned lookout shacks (resembling ramshackle toll-booths), debris pushed against rocks and piled up to block pathways, caches of supplies, and much more. Grabbing onto a hand-hold, she prepared to climb over a-

" _Movement north_!" Axton snapped his pistol towards an outcropping of stone. Krieg snatched a grenade from his belt and brandished his buzz-axe, while Gaige dropped down and unslung her shotgun. Axton called out "You got somethin' you wanna say, fellas? Careful, I speak lead," which sounded pretty cool.

Seven people rose from behind cover, all clutching Hyperion weapons close. Their clothes, which were probably pretty nice at some point, were tattered, torn, burnt, and filthy. Their faces betrayed them; they were terrified, desperate, and one-hundred-percent Hyperion. They had that look of subtle contempt buried by their immediate emotions. Gaige had no doubt, though, that they'd kill all of them in a heartbeat if they could.

But Hyperion, whatever else could be said about them, didn't hire idiots.

"What do you want, you scum-sucking fascists?" Gaige was pretty well ready to perforate these guys for stepping in and ruining her victory march through their destroyed home.

"And _where_  is your doctor, hmm?" Krieg hissed at them, revving his axe.

There was a moment where they all glanced to each other for support, and one of them, a suspiciously native looking woman, responded conversationally. "Well, there was this nuclear explosion just a while ago, and as soon as we thought it was safe..."

Another one, bearded and wearing an unzipped bullet-proof vest, cut in, hiding his nervousness very badly. "Yeah, ha ha, about that, did you, uh, happen to find," -he glanced around, gesturing animatedly- " _anything_? Because, uh, there was kind of a _nuke_ going off right outside our front door!"

Gesturing back to the canyon, Gaige replied "Yeah, we blew up a few rakk hives. N-B-D."

"Oh, yeah, okay, well that makes sen- Who are you people?" Beardy blurted out agitatedly.

Axton spun his gun around a finger, held it up, and popped a finger-gun at the group. Grinning his least-trustworthy smile, he purred "We're Vault Hunters. We fought and killed Handsome Jack, Terramorphous, Hyperius, Master Gee, the Badassasaurus Rex, Voraciduous, and Vermivorous. Name's Axton, and I'm wanted for war-crimes 'Above and Beyond the Line of Duty, Necessity, Morality, or Common Fuckin' Decency.'"

He waved his hand at Gaige. "This is Gaige, and she's wanted for creation of unauthorized technology, and-"

"Axton, so help me, I will-"

"Excessive adorability."

"- arc-weld a grenade to your balls."

"And this," -he turned and walked up to Krieg- "is Krieg, wanted for public indecency. The rest of it's too charred to trace, so they can't charge him."

Holstering his pistol, he unslung the new legendary assault rifle he got from the badass rakk hive and walked right up to the group. Gaige pumped her shotgun, summoned Deathtrap in a cloud of digitized matter, and joined him. Krieg revved his axe again, crouching behind them.

There was a very satisfying moment where the group collectively shat themselves, raising their guns or arguing quietly with the bearded one. After conferring with Beard, the woman from earlier spoke up cheerfully and inquisitively, silencing the rest. "So, what is it you're doing here? I mean, all the good loot's gone by now."

The tension was palpable. Then Gaige spoke up. "Loot from what?"


	4. Chapter 4: Tetherball

The squad of former Hyperion employees, innocent devils that they were, were off-limits for killing. But they both wanted to. His fingers remained fanatically clutched around the handle of his holstered axe, and he never took his eyes off them. Occasionally, the others would get through to him; their shrieking, bellowing cacophony would stir his blood to action, make his meat twitch like a dead skag hooked to a car battery, and he could see their clutching claws, their icy eyes, their twitching tails.

But then the steadily growing voice hiding somewhere between him and time would speak up, dispelling the phantoms and screams. _Damned right, big guy. That's what I do. What we will do, just as soon as we finish this ugly thing_. Finish.

But to do that, he needed the cooperation—willing or not—of the survivors they were traveling with. He was absolutely positive that none of them had done anything to deserve death, but they knew where to find her. Normally, he'd just grab important-looking people and start threatening, and while that would get him somewhere, he doubted he'd manage to actually convey what he wanted. This required—shudder—a delicate touch.

Sidling up beside Axton, who was trying his damnedest to make the little bearded kind-of-psycho uncomfortable, he nudged the commando's shoulder. In response to his somewhat irritated glance, Krieg leaned in conspiratorially and gestured to the group. In a voice more in line with a growl than a whisper, he said, "Blood runs thinner than milk here. By my humours, it would take a mir-a-cle worker to keep just one man standing."

Axton, and everybody else, for that matter, stared at him in befuddlement. Eventually, Gaige hesitantly tried to formulate a response. "Yeah, uh, blood's a humour. I think…?"

"Yeah, I think you're catchin' onto something there, Gaige. Is that it, Krieg? You're feeling 'sanguine?' Axton replied, missing the point entirely.

Krieg groaned, struggling to articulate a million layers of innuendo and subtlety through a mouthful of screaming hate. "Gah, this ground is full of hunters!"

"Yeah, that's right bud. We are, indeed, Vault Hunters," Axton interjected.

" _No_! No, prey! Food that fights back! Always, always, always a fight to pick on Pandora!" He jabbed Axton's injured leg with a meaty finger for emphasis. "Nobody gets out without a few _sev-ered_ arteries."

He pointed at the de-facto leader of the survivors, who leaned back with his hands held up. "Where's their scars?"

The man he was pointing at spoke up, indignant. "Hey, just because we're not from this sunny little hellhole doesn't mean we're completely lost here!" Krieg ignored him, mostly because the mask hanging from his hip marked him as another psycho, and Krieg didn't want to make him uncomfortable by looking at him without his face on.

"Y'know, that's actually a pretty good question," Gaige said, sounding sincerely interested. "How did you guys manage to survive out here? You're, y'know," she waved a dismissive claw, "a bunch of pants-backwards corporate sheep. How'd any of you make it past the first week?"

Mini-psycho and dreadlocks looked affronted, while the other survivor's looked to only be really wondering that themselves just now. Dreadlocks responded first. "I'm not Hyperion! I've lived on Pandora my whole life, I know how to handle myself!"

" _City-slicker_ ," Krieg instantly taunted. And she really was. No blood. No scars. Not even five-foot-eleven.

"And I _was_ Hyperion," the unarmed psycho started, "but, as I was telling you all, I've been stuck here on the surface, among some of the harshest elements of Pandora, for a long time. And that's before Helios crashed, bringing a host of new manpower and staff."

" _Pushing pens_ through _skag skulls_ ," Krieg said, feigning dismissiveness.

"No, we've got a lot of smart, ambitious people, all of whom either had or acquired skills essential for the smooth running of Helios' ruins," he flashed back instantly, punctuating each point with a finger. "We've got soldiers, engineers, janitors, do—don't laugh, Helios has some fucked up plumbing—doctors, adv—"

"Hold on, you've got doctors?" Axton cut in. "Like, actual, honest-to-God, _licensed_ doctors?"

"Ah, yeah, why?" He seemed confused. "Are there… Not any doctors on Pandora?"

"Hell no, man, we've been seeing an organ-legger for all of our many medical needs."

"Jeez man, that's, ah, tough…?"

"I will pay your guy just about anything to fix my damned leg."

"Oh, sure, we'll just, uh, end the tour at the clinic."

"I could kiss all of you."

Grinning to himself, Krieg politely continued ignoring the conversation. He caught the basics; they'd found and conquered the last Vault on Pandora—with Zer0's help, apparently—and now two of their friends were missing. So, technically, they were kind of Vault Hunters themselves, loss of people they cared about included. He didn't think too hard about it, tuning back in only when they actually walked inside.

"Yeah, the firepower from the Traveler really helped beef up security around here," dreadlocks, who he now knew was named Sasha, said.

"Oh, man, you guys have no idea what it's like, trying to teach a whole station's worth of people to shoot straight, not to—OH! One quick thing. You mentioned you wanted to see the doctor?" Beardy—Vaughn, not actually a psycho, just using the mask to filter air in dust storms—asked.

"Yeah, kiss all of you, et cetera," Axton replied offhandedly, obviously not paying much attention to the story. Still a step better than Gaige, who had an ear bud in, playing obnoxiously loud screeching music.

"Well, just one little thing. See, the doc's got this, like, thing, about psychos. I know, 'cause one time I didn't take the gas-mask off." He glanced nervously at Krieg. "It'd be better, for everyone, probably, if your big friend stayed out of the med-bay."

Before Axton or Gaige could respond, Krieg nodded and began walking off towards the remains of the hangar. He'd check out the state of any surviving ships and then continue on to step two.

_You know, I don't think I've told you this yet, but that was a clever play way back there. I'm starting to think I'm rubbing off on you._ Yeah, maybe that was the case. But it ran both ways; the voice's suggestions for killing Jack were leagues more sadistic than anything he could've come up with.

He froze when he walked into the hangar, minutes later. It was full of scrap. Sheet plating, bulkheads, cargo, weapons, it was all scattered throughout like so much trash. There was a perfectly spherical crater, just visible in the pile, that suggested a drive core had imploded. It was shameful. It was an insult to voidsmen everywhere. Above all…

"Poop train!" he shouted.

A nearly pristine, unpainted, top-of-the line designer ship hung, delicately, in its docking cradle on the far end of the hangar. It had the saucer platform configuration one might find on a Dahl ship, but there were features that marked it as unmistakeably Hyperion. It had point-defense lasers in addition to its visible fore, mid, and aft shield projectors. It had digistruct pylons next to every major structure on the ship, suggesting a host of surveyors, likely configured for repair. It was equipped with retro rockets the whole way around, likely to assist with on-a-dime turns that would shear any traditional shuttle-platform ships in half with inertia. It had banks upon banks of missile pods, marked with both Maliwan and Torgue brands. It was armed with a main cannon that would be insulted to be mounted on any lesser ship; plasma conduits raced beneath three torque drivers, illuminating both a weapons-grade Klingman's rail complex and a name; it was affectionately nicknamed the Eye of Circe. It was…

Absolutely beautiful… _You know, we were gonna steal the best ship on Helios anyway_... But something about that didn't feel right anymore. _Yeah… These survivors aren't saints, but they're statistically guaranteed to be better than their old boss. It's one thing to steal from Hyperion, but…_ The station wasn't Hyperion anymore. Hyperion didn't want it. It belonged to the people that lived here now. And if the Vault Hunters wanted this ship— _we really fucking do_ —they needed a way to pay for it.

_We'll have to save that for later. We need to get moving, back towards the clinic._

Reluctantly, he tore his eye away from that ocular orgasm and walked back into the crowded station proper. Following signs in the hallways, he began making his way towards the clinic, slowly enough to not startle the few people that skittishly passed him. As he turned a corner, he spotted a tall man in scrubs, waddling alone through the hall. Krieg glanced down every nearby corner. Nobody was coming. He dropped to a predatory crouch.

Creeping noiselessly behind the man, he slammed a meaty fist into the base of the man's skull in a vicious uppercut. As the man stumbled forward, Krieg yanked back on his legs, planting the man face-down underneath him. Just for good measure, he kicked the poor scrub in the side of the head. He was still breathing. He'd live. Probably. People only die when you kill them, and his axe had been holstered for a while now.

He effortlessly carried the man to a locker in an unoccupied maintenance closet, stripped him down, and stuffed him in. Quickly taking his own garments—such as they were—off and stuffing them into his SDU, he began dressing in the far-too-small clothes, followed by the scrubs the man had been wearing. He hesitated when it came to the head-gear, though. He didn't want to set off a panic in the operating room. There was no way the surgical mask would hide his own. He'd have to take it off.

He'd have to take it off.

_C'mon, you lummox, you can't just stop here. I know you don't want to do it. You don't want to see our face. You don't want to remember. But that's exactly why we're doing this. We can't hide forever._ He caught a glimpse of himself in the polished surface of the locker. An old, heavy-duty, eridium miner's mask glared out at him from where a face should be. He ran a hand down the rough surface. A Psychotic killer where a man should be. _Do you even remember what we used to look like? Do you know who we used to be? I do. Nothing we've done means we can't go back. We've atoned and more for everything._ Krieg looked at that reflection, that image of everything he'd become. Was the little man right? Could who he was and who he had become ever be reconciled? Would he even exist? _You don't want to be in my mind any more than I want to be in yours. But it's not like losing yourself entirely. We're one person, just with some dissenting opinions. Let me handle things my way, though, and we'll get exactly what we need in the end. Take off the mask._

With weak shoulders and trembling hands, he loosened the straps holding the mask to his face. The thing, hold held taut against his flesh by leather and sticky sweat, came loose, obscuring his one good eye behind the metal. Shakily, he lifted the straps away from behind his head, holding the mask in place with his other hand. He gathered strength in his thoughts, the encouragement of the voice, the sweet release of sinking his axe into Jack's filthy, disgusting heart, the satisfaction of setting the Preserve ablaze—

His hand dropped. An unfamiliar face stared, uncertainly, back out at him. Choking back a sob, he took the eye-patch off his damaged face, tenderly. A bloodshot, purple orb sneered at him. With tears trickling down his face, he let the mask and eye-patch digitize and be absorbed into his SDU. He wrapped bandages around the horrifically scarred right half of his face. He put on the surgical mask. He took a deep, shaky breath. "I'm ready."

He stepped out of the closet, relieved to find nobody in the hall. Straightening his back—when did he learn to slouch, anyway?—he strode confidently towards the clinic. As he familiarized himself with the man's ID, he mentally ran through a list of people he had heard speaking. He settled on one he'd heard ages ago at the Holy Spirits Bar, belonging to a man he'd killed.

"I'll be right there, ye ponce," He rehearsed, laying on the brogue and shifting up an octave from his standard speech. He nodded, satisfied that his mimicry skills were intact. He wanted this to be a genuine fucking surprise.

Stepping through the door to the clinic, he spotted Gaige lounging on a couch, looking like she was on the verge of starting a shootout. She shot him a deathly serious glare, offset by the issue of Fab Monthly she held. "Are you the nurse we've been waiting for? The doc won't do a damned thing 'without my operating assistant.'"

"Aye, keep yer socks on, just a tussle in the hall with some wackoffs tryin' t'start something." He waved a hand at her as he slowly passed by, listening through the door on the other side of the room.

"Oh, 'just a tussle in the hall,' huh? Well, how'd that go for you?" Gaige inquired, still peeved, but less so. "You look like you handled yourself alright."

"I tossed'em at their pals 'n told'em to get lost and get back to work," he replied, mostly to ensure he had his mimic down, pat.

"Hmm. Maybe you could tell me more about it after you get finished fixing up my friend's leg," Gaige grinned, before starting to fiddle around with her ECHO. Something in her voice just then… Oh, God, no. He was forty-something, and what was she? Like, fourteen?… Was he still attractive? _Grind, grind, grind the bones, never turn your eye._ Shut up.

Internalizing his dialogue, he stepped through the door to the care wing. He followed the sound of voices until he came to a closed operating room. He heard Axton, bullshitting his way into what he probably thought was an easy lay. He heard her, too.

He knocked on the door, and stepped inside. His eye snapped straight to the doctor. Her long, fragile frame. The thin blond hair. The name tag, throwing any willing doubt out the door. It was her. At last.

"Sorry I'm late, doc. Just got the order in this mornin,' and there were some trouble in the hall," he apologized.

"Goodness, man, what happened to your face?" Doctor Samuels opened with classy things like that. "Why haven't I seen you in here before, as a patient if not an assistant?" She glanced him up and down, seeming simultaneously confused and intimidated. He was used to that response, but it made him tingle here. She should be scared.

"I worked down on the engines, for a long while, as an emergency responder. One call we got, there were an acid spill," he bullshitted, convincingly, he thought. He began thoroughly washing his hands. As he wrung the soap, he subtly examined her neck. He pictured it, right where his wrist was now. Mm.

"Hmm. I am sure there is something I can do to save the eye, then. I have treated worse corrosion-burns," she responded, clinically. He listened for the signs in her voice; the slight hitch, the unevenness in her breath, the way one shoulder sat just barely lower than the other. Yes, it was her; she'd neatly recovered from their last encounter, though. "Start prepping our patient for surgery. I've already identified the cause of his problem. We'll need a temporary nerve shunt, between L4 and L5." She began limping around the room, gathering sterile equipment from lockers. "The drug we will use, etomidate sevoflurane, is ready for injection right there." She pointed to a large metal syringe. He caught a glimpse of her arm; there was no sign of the damage he remembered on it.

"Have ye marked the vertebrae, yet, then?" He asked, flipping Axton over and examining his lower back through the patient's gown.

"Nah, doc doesn't trust herself to even get near an ass like this," Axton quipped.

"Yes, because he tempts me to medical malpractice," Samuels replied, smiling lightly.

Krieg ran a gloved hand down Axton's back, mostly to keep up appearances. He'd memorized his friends' spines _long ago_. He grabbed a marker and traced the outlines of the required vertebrae. He patted the Commando's shoulder as he reached for the needle. "This is goin' t'sting. Bloody tons."

"I'll tell you all about stingin,' man. You should'a seen some of the shit that went on on Wam Bam Island. The bugs alone—"

While he was launching into the throes of another story, Krieg snatched the needle, and, with some degree of precision, jabbed it between the vertebrae he'd marked and injected it. Axton screamed, very, very loudly.

"Ho-lee shi-hi-hit!" Axton choked out.

"Aye, that's what I meant," Krieg said, flipping him back over. "But now, you won't feel any of the nasty shit that'll be goin' on in your leg."

"Yes, but you can watch, if you really want to," Samuels commented offhandedly.

"Wait, seriously? No, put up a curtain or something."

"I… understand. It can be hard, seeing your body opened up like that," she hesitantly consoled him.

"Heh, yeah, it's instinct. You been under the knife before?"

She set a curtain up to block Axton's view of his thigh, pursing her lips. "Yes, once. I was injured, but I was the only doctor around. I had to operate on myself." she rolled up his gown and quickly began an incision into the lumpy scar present there, while Krieg hovered behind her. "There was a, ah, bandit attack at the facility I was working at. I was grievously injured—"

"Ooh, hold on a sec, how bad is 'grievously?' 'Cause I've seen Hyperion soldiers start panicking when you punch'em."

The doctor handed off a set of forceps to Krieg, who held the cut open. "My left ribs were separated from my sternum. It was a very bad bandit attack," she said, voice shaking. She reached for a small, scooped scalpel-looking tool. Sticking it into the incision, she hooked it under a poorly-healed ligament and worked it free from the surrounding tissue.

Watching her work made him itch. Bone shards were good for scratching. He knew, from experience, her bones broke easily. There was a scalpel within arm's reach. He could slice her chest open. She switched her attention to a frayed tendon, dripping instant-health onto it. Crack her ribcage with his hands. He passed her a needle and dissolving thread. He shuddered. The bones would cut his skin. She began stitching a frayed muscle. Her heart would flutter, frantically, in his hands, beating so hard to cling to a life she didn't deserve. She finished that cluster and began the slow process of closing the wound. And, hell, why should he have all the fun? She could fight back all she wanted. She stitched layers of muscle back together and then applied instant-health. When a layer was done, she started on the next. He handed her tools, monitored his friend's vitals, dabbed her damned face when she started sweating.

After several repetitions, she finished suturing the outer layer of flesh. "We are nearly finished with your leg. Once we are finished, you will recover from the anesthetic in an hour or so, and the blood thinner will be flushed out in about the same time frame."

"That's great, doc. Thanks again for the help, I'll make sure to tell all of my friends. There's an actual doctor on Pandora!" He burst into laughter.

"W-well, we'll see about that," she spoke with a shaking voice. Clearing her throat, she spoke to Krieg, her faithful anesthetist. "We are running low on instant-health. Could you grab another applicator? Injector, this time, please. We will need some in the deeper parts of the wound to properly heal."

"It's a sure thing, doc," he replied, nearly dropping the act. Acting quickly, he walked to the far side of the room, where the instant-health supplies were located. He did grab one standard syringe, the kind the Vault Hunters regularly bought from Zed. He also picked up another syringe, an empty one. Glancing back to make sure Doctor Samuels was still working, he drew a vial from his belt. The fluid withing glowed purple. Slag. He filled the syringe with it. He unwrapped the bandages on his face, tossing them to the side. He pulled the surgical mask down. He turned around. There was a reckoning coming.

One foot came down hard. There was a click, from the steel toe in the boot. The doctor started. Another foot. The scrubs he wore whispered to him. 'You can't! This is a place of healing!' Axton's eyes wandered over to him. There was the barest trace of recognition. The doubtlessly wild eye. The black blood he felt oozing from his tear ducts. His heart slammed against the inside of his chest like a caged beast, begging his lungs to hyperventilate, begging him to give in to the mania. He tossed the instant-health syringe at Axton's lap. Another step. The syringe landed. His axe began digistructing in his right hand. The curtains were whispering now, too. The heart monitor groaned at him. 'You monster! People come here to mend their pains!' As he glimpsed the heat haze rising above the forming buzz axe, Axton jumped in his seat, as much as he could. "Krieg? What—" Doctor Samuels turned to face him, one hand still holding the needle.

He grinned, cracking the sores in his face, letting blood ooze from most everywhere on his face. He leapt forward, grabbing the panicking doctor by the throat, hoisting her through the air, and slamming her skull into the low-hanging ceiling. He bellowed. " _Slag-spewing whore_!" She gripped his arm, terror and pain written into her every feature, her goggles forgotten somewhere on the ceiling. " _Doctor death_!" He smashed her into the ground, cracking ribs and opening a scar running down the middle of her torso. Her nails dug furrows into his skin, her eyes were filled with tears and blood. His tears. His blood. She had no right to cry. Barely even deserved to bleed. He felt a bullet slap into the meat where his neck met his left shoulder. Another lanced into his pectoral, stopped by the tightly-corded flesh, another cracked him right in the jaw. Four barrels of buckshot kicked him in the gut. He couldn't afford to care. His bones shifted and snapped, muscles stretching, splitting, and rippling as the adrenaline began pumping and his body spat the bullets back out. Fire rose from somewhere in his heart, boiling and frothing up and out in a roar that beat with molten flames.

" _ **Child murderer**_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I got a nasty case of writer's block and spent months trying to figure out where I wanted to take the story.
> 
> I still need a name for this ship, and I promised I'd name it something a reviewer suggested, but I've gotten Poop Train as my only suggestion so far. I could rock a ship named Poop Train, but I'd rather not, y'know?
> 
> If this chapter made you revolted sexually, I've done my job right.

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo AO3, I wrote this a while ago, but only recently got around to getting invited to AO3 and transferring it over to here. 
> 
> I'll transfer my earlier, rambling author's notes when they're important or I liked the ramblings.
> 
> The important thing I need your help with, soon, is I need a name for a spaceship (it's description can be found in Chapter 4).
> 
> Please help me name it something good, something other than Poop Train, because that's the one suggestion I've gotten so far.


End file.
